Bound by the Vintner
by Hetabee
Summary: When a grouchy loner (Arthur) meets a kindly indentured servant (Alfred) at the local market one day neither expected that they would see the other again. But when Alfred's boss asks for too much, he must go on the run. With a grim perception of the world and difficulty controlling his magic powers, Arthur's only concerned about himself. Warning: Not as historical as it sounds...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer {I know, real original}: I don't own Hetalia. If I did, there would be 2Ps, fanservice, States and you would be especially sick of Oliver (2P England). Happy (not really anymore) Halloween! **

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Once there was a man named Arthur who didn't have a care in the world, not that he was a loosey-goosey lad of leisure either. He just didn't care about anything. _Anything._ At. All. That might explain how he had ended up in his granny's old beat-up hovel, hateful of the entire world around him and distrusting of others. His brothers, all well known and respected sorcerers, worried that he wouldn't be able to perform magic as he wasn't showing any of the signs they had acquired before partaking in their rites to obtain wiccan status.

But when he finally received his powers, it was like a switch had went off in the others' heads. They began to taunt and jeer at their inexperienced sibling, making fun of how he could summon his gift from his hands instead of with a staff or cane like them or how he always made an effeminate noise after he spoke a particularly tough incantation or how weak he was compared to them. _It's not like I can help that_, he would often tell himself, so often it was basically his mantra, _I did just get them_.

Either way, they never let up on the blonde. Striving to push the boy further up a wall than the last brother as if it was some type of contest and Arthur had been fed up with it for the longest time. So one day before his brothers came back from hunting down the river, he gathered up his spell book, a map with instructions to his grandmother's abandonded dwelling, as many stray gold coins as he could find and amscrayed out of there so fast, he almost forgot where he was going and ended up running past his means of escape transportation twice.

A roll of thunder scared him witless as he released his wine bottle at the sudden sound, sparkling vino and glass shards decorating the wood floors with a deep scarlet hue. Arthur grunted in frustration, he had wanted that wine for a fortnight and now it was all gone! It would probably attract ants if he didn't clean it up, and he'd be damned before a colony settled in. He unwrapped a holey blanket from his shoulders, felt around for his broom between the flashing intervals of light outside and cursed when he stepped down. He hobbled around until he reached his makeshift cot, sitting down once he could and peering apprehensively at the glass stuck in the bottom of his foot. Cursing again, his life sucked.

He had no money, barely any food left since the famine up north had spread there and no way to entertain himself other than books, but he finished his last one eight weeks ago. The only reason he knew that was because of the eight columns of tally marks, each with seven tallies sitting on peeling wallpaper, mocking him with their curly script. He wanted to bend them with his teeth, even if that was impossible.

He had been eleven when he had left his brothers seeking greener pastures, he had still wore his chubby cheeks with mischief and combed through his hair with his fingers to present himself as a gentleman then. Now he was gaunt due to malnourishment, wore a frown habitually from years of hardship and ignored everyone - especially his too-happy neighbors. He remembered a bright bloke from around the corner who used to stop by, the young man would continuously rap on Arthur's door and ask if he was fine or did he need something from the market or was he breathing. A brisk autumn day on the eve of Harvest last year, he had wanted to tell Arthur of the impending pestilence heading to their very village before it was too late to stock up on produce. Little did he know that a sleep deprived Arthur is the worst Arthur to try and reason with. Let us just say that somebody's hand was dislocated and none of Arthur's other neighbors dare linger on his yard after that.

"It ought to be October right now.." he spoke aloud whilst worrying his lower lip, prominent brows furrowed in concentration. _The vendors might be out of it soon since the farmers' crops aren't doing so well this season. _Carefully removing the glass from his injury in the becoming, Arthur took a cloth from off the floor and tied the fabric around his foot, sighing at the tight reassurance building up in his bloodstream from restriction. He still had all his limbs. For now.

"Tomorrow..." he whispered as his vision began to darken, body slumping against the straw of his bed._ Tomorrow, I am going to the Grove to get some wine._ He fell asleep, eyes of emerald twitching from dreams of a world where he ruled, a corner of his mouth twitching upwards. _And no one is going to try and stop me. _

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Uh, if you saw what I posted about **_C'est Trop à la Mode de Mentir _**and you actually read the story (which is unlikely), then you're probably looking at me like I'm mad or something for trying again. Which I am. But after reading and re-reading and _re-re-re-re-re-reading_ it, I knew that I was jumping between POVs and everything and it just started getting hard for me to write. Plus, the plot was going nowhere... I'm not going to delete it though; not with all of the crap I've done for it! No, I'm just going to leave it and see if I can rewrite it when I have more experience with writing later. And if not, too bad. :/ I thank you all who read, followed and even looked at it, too.

Ignoring all that junk up there, this AU is set in a knockoff 1800s type time frame I'm making up from the top of my head, so you should definitely expect historical inaccuracies from this. Though I see some of what I have thought up goes with it... Sorry for all of this anyway. :I


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Use of funky language and I don't know why but, rollie-pollie-ollieness... Still don't own Hetalia! :D**

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Although he had been awoken by the dense weight of his sleeping leg, Arthur couldn't help but to have a little spring in his step this morning. He was going to get drunk. Well, after traveling to the town square five miles away and then the required eight hour trek back, but as long as he got plastered it was good enough for him.

Drinking had long since been a coping mechanism for the down-on-one's-luck lad, ever since he encountered his first bottle he had been hooked. Alcohol, and books, were his two only friends. He didn't mind it though. They never betrayed him, or mocked him like his brothers had, or expected anything out of him and that was all he could ask for. The only people he could get along with were fellow social pariahs like himself and there were not many, if any at all, where he lived now. He met one named Elizabeta in the past, she was a wild broad from Hungary who would boast how manly she was despite being a woman in drag. She had threatened to end the Brit's life with her cast iron pan if he told a single soul the extent of her gall, to which he unsurprisingly acquiesed whilst providing some helpful advice because, really, her long tresses almost always gave her away to the authorities by a hair's breadth. Essentially, his life constituted wholly of drinking, reading and splendid isolation. _Add magic to that list and by George you've got it_, he snorted in self-derision.

His magic was a delicate subject to touch upon for countless reasons: firstly, it reminded him of his deceased parents who had died to keep their family fed and clothed and just alive, which in turn reminded him of his old village and its eccentricities and how he would never get to see any of it again, which in turn depressed him further... You see where this is going. It was a constant teeter-totter of emotional turmoil he would drown in booze, forget about as his hangover clouded his memory and overlook like a fool in blissful ignorance. He couldn't control his "gift" anyhow. With his luck, he would create a new ice age and that wasn't even his power. All that reading in his spell book had only left him with a chronic migraine, some destroyed heirlooms and disenchantment in all things magical; high and dry in a strange place without anyone on this cursed planet.

Not like he cared or anything.

He'd show them all how fine he was with that or his name wasn't Arthur Kirkland II.

Colorful obscenities glossing over the blonde's absorption in his own troubles, Arthur surveyed the enviornment as he moseyed on over to the source of commotion in the familiar marketplace known as the Grove.

The cleverly named Grove was just that and more. An open market boxed in by modest sized forest, the woodland acting as a border between the market and the otherwise remote town nearby. It was where hardworking farmers, craftsmen, blacksmiths and businessmen went to sell their goods and hear of the latest scandals told by busybodies with too much time on their hands. Several stands were set up right next to the other, garnering crowds to observe the daily antics involving vendors and return clients that had become a recurring show to the regular schmucks not yet used to it. Owners of their respective stands called potential patrons to their station with blasphemous promises, made soley for the purpose of outweighing their competitors' equally false assurances.

The scent of tomato sauce and fresh dough graced Arthur's nostrils, causing drool to pool in the emaciated boy's mouth. _That's new_, he noticed a stand he had not seen before, being managed by a dark auburn haired man with an unusual curl resting on the right side of his head. He was gesturing determinedly with his hands and cursing in accented English to a man who laughed off his insults, infuriating the impatient Italian by putting a hand on his shoulder to stay upright whilst he howled in amusement.

"If tomatoes are fruit, like you say, then how come Boss don't make wine outta 'em?" The Italian huffed and puffed, shoving the man off his shoulders and scowling as the man continued to chuckle boyishly on the ground.

"'Cause he's probably an uneducated chowderhead bastard with shit for brains like you!" the taunt fell on deaf ears as the man was far too into his fit to care, he tried standing up but the Italian started kicking his sides in agitation. The man caught a bright idea after the kicks had gotten more solid in force, grabbing the irate Italian by the ankle, he rolled around like a trundle whilst positively beaming in merriment. Arthur, who had been enraptured in imagining what the pizza pie in front of him would taste like, hadn't paid any attention to the ball of limbs heading his way.

As the Italian man attempted to pull away from the other, he grabbed blindly onto Arthur's leg, dragging the startled Brit down with him. The three smashed into a stand selling baked goods, powdered sugar and pastries from around the globe dousing sticky sweetness on each member of the tangled trio's figures as they collided with the earth.

"Fucking shit," the Italian man fumed from underneath the _puta_ who had started this whole mess in the first place. He was laying facedown beneath the chowderhead who just sat there like he didn't have anywhere to be. His back was going to break under that fatass' weight. He felt an arm graze past his ass and he wasn't okay with that. "Antonio! GET OVER HERE RIGHT NOW, YOU BASTARD!"

A throng of people had gathered to watch the scene unfold. Pretty women giggled as they walked by while men just gawked at the awkward position the three were in, toddlers pointed at them and asked their parents what it meant. Noise, noise, noise. It was driving Arthur mad. He couldn't think with the ceaseless cacophony waging war on his eardrums, nor notice as a pair of hands disentangled him from the pile of pain. Nor did he notice the gentle prodding of a boot against his foot. However, he did notice the rough smack of a glove on his forehead as a bespectacled blonde's face studied his own.

"Don'cha move. I'll have tha' vermin offa yer face in a secon'," Arthur raised his eyebrows at the odd man's behavior before being smacked on the face again. "Ah, hold still! Darn ca'erpillar!"

The bespectacled man was a sight to behold, short dusty blonde fringe (with a strange curl on his head, as well) accentuating his positively dreamy sky blue eyes. He had taut muscles that flexed whenever he moved and a somewhat conceited air about him. He looked tall enough to be close to six feet in height and well fed. He could even afford to wear the biege linen cravat he was sporting, with a pleated cuff shirt of the same fabric and maroon knee high breeches. The only thing Arthur got to wear was the same pair of pantaloons, button down shirt and Hessian boots that his father had worn when he was his age. The misfortunate misfit felt a twinge of envy just studying the man, though he would never tell the other this.

"W-what are you doing?" Arthur's examination was interrupted as calloused hands began fondling his thick eyebrows, his breath caught in his throat instantly.

"Tryin' to find out why you twitch when I touch these." the blue eyed man replied without hesitation.

"A black eye and a fat lip is what you'll get if you don't let go!" he smacked the other's hands away, trying to catch his breath. The other seemed to get what was going on and stopped suddenly, leaving the flustered Brit's face alone to stare at him, an unindentifiable emotion passing over his countenance.

"Sorry... Thought they were ca'erpillars at first a-an' I... Oh shoot..." he trailed off. Confused, Arthur followed his gaze to find a fancily dressed blonde trailing behind a brunette man whose face alit in joy once he spotted the Italian.

"LOVI~~!" the brunette called, running excitedly to the man who proceeded to cover his face in embarassment, hugging the living daylights out of him.

"Get off of me, dammit! Chigi!" the Italian successfully headbutted the brunette after many failed tries, surely giving another injury to the cheerful tomato farmer's internal organs. While they repeated their daily routine, the posh blonde headed straight for the bespectacled man before seeing Arthur and flouncing up to the two with an unnerving leer.

"Alfred, who is this you are speaking to?" Alfred's boss wore a violet greatcoat which swished elegantly with every step he took. His golden waves were swept back into a ponytail, a few stray pieces gracing his gorgeous jawline and framing sparkling sapphire irises.

"Oh, well, I hadn't asked him his name-" Alfred started.

"Then what is your name, mon petit?" the man, who he would assume is French from his accent, questioned Arthur. He didn't know what a "mon petit" was, but he didn't like the way this guy was saying it.

"Arthur. What's it to ya, frog?" the shocked expression on the Frenchman's face was just too rich. Instead of crying about it like the Brit had wanted him to, the smirk on his face seemed to have doubled in intesity. The wavy haired blonde chuckled weirdly and offered the emerald eyed boy a rose. Arthur checked the rose for thorns and finding none, ripped the silky petals off using his teeth. Petal by petal. Spitting them onto the ground by the fancy Frenchman's boots.

This savage behavior only made the Frenchman more intrigued by the Brit as Alfred observed the situation cautiously, waiting in anticipation of action from either of the two to prevent damage with his steadfast strength. Thankfully, both blondes quit their showdown and brushed themselves of imaginary dust on their clothing, watching the other from their peripherals with annoyance or in Alfred's boss' case, smug satisfaction.

"Come along now, mon chou~ We leave tomorrow and I'm sure mon petit wouldn't want to make us late." Alfred's boss chirped in all his saccharine sweet Frenchie Frenchness. The taller blonde returned to his boss' side, hoping not to aggravate his boss any more.

"Yeah, you better run..." Arthur muttered to himself, glaring at the retreating figures' backs.

"We shall meet again, Arthur~!" came Alfred's boss' reply. _Did he hear me just_ _then?,_ he frowned._ No, no. That's impossible. _

Shaking his head to clear the unimportant thoughts, Arthur promptly found the wine stand past the art exhibit, stood by until the owner left for break and stole a large bottle of the best kind they had. It was called _Fraîche_.

_Whatever that meant, _he needlessly shrugged. It might have been imported from France but as he had no ale, it was this or nothing.

With his stolen booty under one arm, he fled out of the market and soon found the trail leading back to his shack. Running wouldn't guarantee that nobody saw him, but at least then if they had he would be twenty steps ahead of them.

His victory trumping any other sense of reason, the Brit drank and drank until dawn that night once he got home. Indulging all by his lonesome, but awaking with a faint recollection of a pair of orbs so hauntingly blue, that he felt as if he was being watched by the creature of his dreams in that very moment.

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_FYK (For Your Knowledge) Words:_

_Chowderhead_ is an old 1800s slang word meaning "foolish, incompetent person"

_Puta _is something you can Google yourself ;)

_Mon chou _means "my sweet bun" in French, unless the French website is wrong..

_Fraîche_ means "fresh" in French (Again, Google)

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That must be some real strong wine, Art. He's such a wino. Also I'm pretty sure if you felt like you were being watched, that you would, oh I dunno, call the authorities! But this isn't that kind of time period (it's like 1865; and he's not the type of person), so... I keep telling my mom about this story and she says I shouldn't make it too wordy/difficult to understand for the "common folk". Is this hard for you to understand? I hope it isn't.

I feel like I'm making Francis a weird voyeur or something.. Uh, more acquainting between Art and Al next chapter! Thanks for the views and the review! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Lies, lies, lies! I do NOT own Hetalia and don't you forget it. D:**

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A gentle gust of wind whistled through the trees, sun shrouding the scenic valley with a warm morning glow. The stream had attracted ravenous bears to partake in their fill on the bounty that Mother Earth had provided them with. Robins twittered about on branches rambunctiously, as if some urgent matter were being discussed in their melodic peepery. All was well except-

_Where am I?,_ was his first thought whilst yawning sleepily.

Sitting up just to yelp in surprise as his back hit nothing but air, Arthur clutched the end of a skinny tree branch as the rest of his body dangled precariously. He had no idea how he had gotten up there. He hadn't been drinking in the trees last night, he knew that, otherwise he would have brought enough common sense to know that he would plummet to the ground and die. If that was true, then why the hell was he up here?!

His grip was slipping and he knew it wouldn't be long before he would end up with a fate similar to that of Humpty Dumpty's. Poor fool, he had had it all before sitting atop that damnable wall. He grimaced. He'd had a life, not an entirely good one but he'd had one nonetheless, he figured it was better to let fate take place than to stall the inevitable. Tightly clenching his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut, Arthur let go of the branch.

He had expected the fall to end bone-crunchingly, but as he blinked without the slightest idea of how he was all in one piece, he caught the dim reflection of a golden coin to his left, its shine weakened by the canopy of greenery above. Engraved in that coin was a symbol in the shape of a four-leaf clover, the initials 'AOK', the same as Arthur's full name, printed below the symbol. Why, it even had that dent in it from when he threw it against the wall in a fit of anger when he still lived with his brothers. So then...

"..If this is my coin," he crawled forward. "Then what is it doing out here?" He sighed. "No use asking you. You're only an inanimate object..." the coin responded to his remark by rolling down the dirt trail, in spite of the angry boy now chasing after it. "You must be mine. You're running away like usual... Come back!" Arthur sprinted down the peak of the valley, near death all but forgotten in his haste to retrieve his sensitive talisman.

"I wonder, if I payed a pretty penny, would the baker give me a cake?" Peter was looking up, seemingly asking the Heavens before continuing on his path to town.

Young Peter knew he was a smart chap. He got that from his Pa (not saying Mama was a dunce or anything, just sort of spacey). He was en route to get some house supplies for his parents since Mama had broken another vase. He was confident in his ability to get to the store, get the items necessary and head straight back like they wanted him to. He'd seen no sign of the deranged man his Mama had told him to look out for and he didn't see why some silly loon would matter anyway. He didn't have anything on him but the clothes on his back and some change in his grasp, and no way was some madman going to come snatch his money without putting up their dukes and fighting him for it. Peter stopped walking once he heard leaves rustling in the distance.

_Was that the madman? Aw, I don't think I have anything for him to bite... _

His glum thoughts were interrupted by a metallic clink. A coin rolled by and Peter, smart chap he was, grabbed it off the ground. He inspected it closely with his ocean blue orbs, rounded face breaking out into a giddy smile as soon as the idea hit his brain. He could give this to the baker for a cake, he'd then have the cake to give to that freaky vampire, he'd get the love charm from the bloodsucker afterwards and when he got that charm it would fix everything. _And maybe then Mama and Papa would stop fighting..._ A crash alerted the young chap to his new company.

Gasping spastically behind some bushes, Arthur collapsed in front of the stupefied child. His always unkempt hair was dank with sweat, eyes wild with unleashed rage. Running constantly didn't ensure that you were in tip-top shape, especially in his case. All that exercise combined with the lack of fuel to support his body was really kicking his keister. Arthur's chest rose and fell with ragged breaths. The child stepped up to him, uncertain expression etched into his innocent, cherubic face.

"Who are you?" Peter asked in his inexplicable Cockney accent. He waited for a few minutes while the other tried to pull himself together.

"...None...of your...damm business..." Arthur spat lamely, his torso hunched over, hands on his knees as he heaved. The child pouted.

"You aren't mad, just sore. Darn, I wanted to have an adventure-" Peter whined, flipping the coin against his palm distractedly. Arthur gaped.

"What's that you're flipping, squirt?" he asked, though he had more than a sneaking suspicion he knew exactly what it was. Peter scoffed indignantly at the moniker.

"I am not small! I am going to grow up and be a big man one day and then you'll be sorry!" Peter cried, missing the subtle movements the other was making towards him.

"Somehow I doubt that," he replied uninterestedly. Arthur attempted to swipe at the child's hand for his coin, but the brat wouldn't keep still. "Give me the bloody coin back!"

"Back? I never took it from you, sir. It just rolled up to me. But if you doubt my promise, then I guess I'll just have to prove you wrong." Peter retorted, and with a single childish raspberry to the stranger, jogged down the path to God knows where.

"Hey!" was all Arthur could come up with after the shock had worn off. Children in his old village were timid souls, docile with their family and moreso respecting of people they didn't know. This brat, though, had the audacity to steal his possession. His eyes narrowed in acceptance of unspoken challenge, Arthur took off down the dirt path after the cocky child. He hoped to every deity mocking him above and below that the other hadn't figured out why he needed that coin yet.

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I lied!

Okay, not really, but I still meant for Alfred (and his weirdness) to be in this chapter, but then all of this stuff began taking place in my mind and... UGH! DX

I put a limit on how many words I can have per chapter, so that's why I had to cut it off there... And other reasons, but I'm too lazy to explain. But oh my Lord, you guys don't know how happy all of your attention on this story has made me! I don't how I would spend all this time without writing for you all. Well, actually I do, but it's very unproductive and that's not fun after awhile...

For real, I treasure you all. Reviewers, followers, viewers, readers, ANYONE! Thank you all, you rock! :D

Now... I'm not going to promise anything next chapter, for fear of jinxing myself into not including it again that chapter. Wish me luck. :P


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Dialogue heavy, lotsa Peter the Smart and not-really-romance. You have been warned. Be glad that I still don't own Hetalia!**

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"Boss?" Alfred said once the last of the merchandise had been accounted for. He'd just finished relocating the crates of wine his boss had asked for. He really was over-exaggerating when he said the weight would break his back. He thought they were as light as air, heck, he could balance them on the tips of his fingers if he wanted! Setting them on an unoccupied table across from the stand he had crashed into yesterday, he chuckled at the mental image of Lovino's face as he grabbed his ankle. And then there was Arthur.

_Angry, adorable Arthur... _

He didn't know how to explain it, but he felt as if he knew the grump from somewhere. Where that somewhere was was a whole other subject entirely, he just got this strong feeling that he couldn't quite place when he saw the man. A strong feeling that settled under his left breast and made him really nervous for some reason. He found it frightening yet strangely thrilling all at once. He knew there was a word for this, though what that word was escaped him. Was this what 'the change' his boss had told him about was supposed to feel like? It felt more like indigestion than anything special to him.

"Didn't I tell you that it is fine to call me Francis?" the Frenchman eyed the ever-changing crowd loitering around the marketplace, his trademark leer sending a shiver down his servant's spine once he turned to face him. He seemed to be fishing for weak links as he normally does. Those were the easiest type of people to sucker cash out of and if they didn't want their money, well, he'd gladly spend it for them.

"...You did," a sigh escaped the other's lips. "I'm sorry.. Boss, er, Francis?"

"It's alright." Francis waved off the apology, smiling sadly. "What is it? Your _joie de vivre_ is lacking today. Are you feeling ill, mon chou?" trying to feel Alfred's forehead for a fever, his hand was grabbed by said person who avoided making eye contact all the while.

"No, it's jus'..." the younger man trailed off hesitantly, releasing his boss' hand.

"Just...?" Francis asked with tact. He was curious to know what was affecting the usually upbeat boy, but he didn't want to push too far at the same time.

"Don'chu you ever get a feelin', like, like you seen somethin' 'fore?" he bit on his lip in an anxious manner. He hadn't meant to blurt that out just then, now his boss was surely going to call him out for his stupidity.

"Seen something before... Ah! Like déjà vu?" finding that the other was more focused on breaking skin than listening to him, he tutted at the bespectacled boy before sighing. "I do not think you are stupid, Alfred." Alfred's head shot up in surprise, he furrowed his brows at the Frenchman as he explained. "Your face says it all, bonbon. I do not know why you thought I did, but... Try to cheer up a little while I'm gone, please. You're starting to worry me." He gently placed a hand on Alfred's shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance.

The familiar weight of his boss' hand on his shoulder, Alfred managed a broken smile at the older man before mumbling a quick 'thanks'. The wavy haired blonde just smiled back and leaned in to kiss the young man on the cheek, as had become a daily practice for the two after many years of their 'living arrangement'.

Francis removed his hand from the teen's broad shoulder to cup his cheek, it wasn't until Alfred pulled away from the contact that he saw the stiff stance the other was displaying. His hands fisted at either side, eyes closed tight with a cherry red blush dusting his cheeks.

He assumed it was the embarassment of being a youth coming into age so suddenly with no one of his own to love him as he needed to be loved. He was going through the phase in life when everything was still fresh and new and self-discovery overtook any other sense of reason. He would probably reject any shows of affection that Francis would kindly offer during this period of his life.

_Well_, Francis thought, _we'll fix that in time together, now won't we, cher?_

"I'll be back after I discuss our living arrangements with 'Toni." Francis announced to the unmoving boy, whose gaze remained fixed on the ground. He promptly walked into town to locate his loopy Spanish friend before he got himself busy with that waffle woman again. Those two always had a way with pushing people's buttons, or was that just Bella?

As the tapping of boots faded into the distance, Alfred slumped to the ground, trying to understand his boss' bizarre nature.

_CRASH!_

The sound startled the young man so badly, his heart felt like it was galloping faster than a race horse. Choosing to forego pondering over his boss (as that would get him nowhere), Alfred jumped up and fled to the source of the noise. He ran at such a pace that he had no time to stop, even as he barreled into the one person he hadn't been able to get out of his mind. Inadvertently knocking him into unconsciousness in the process... Boy, he felt mighty stupid right now.

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Faint snickering greeted the disoriented Arthur while he stretched his weary bones awake, only to roll off of a table onto the solid cobblestone ground below.

"Ah!" Arthur yelped for the second time that day. Alright, he knew that there was no possible way that he was drunk this early in the afternoon... Unless there was a holiday. And there wasn't.

"Look at who's awake, Al! It's Eyebrows!" the shrill exclamation made his ears ring and he could tell there was a finger pointing in his face without actually seeing it. The scuffle of clumsy feet notified him of another presence. The Brit slowly blinked sleep away, taking in the sights around him he realized that he was in an alley behind the Grove. But why was he here and what was with that table he was resting on not too long ago, too? He groaned, questions made his head hurt.

"-thur? Arthur," a voice was calling out to him before a pair of warm hands held his face in place. "Guess what Petey can do!" balls of water began splashing his face relentlessly. Arthur grumbled in annoyance before really waking up.

"You!" he shouted at the one cupping his face.

"Me?" the other voice joined in.

"No," Arthur glared determinedly at the beaming man in front of him, as if that would get him to let go. "You. You need to be taught some things."

"Wha' kinda things?" asked the beaming man who appeared to be taking this seriously, so Arthur cleared his throat before stating in the calmest tone he could muster:

"Many things. For one, personal space, discretion being a close second and did I mention personal space?" the beam on the other's face was waning, he took that as his sign to continue. "What are you still doing here anyway? Come back to molest me some more? I'm sure that boss of yours would condone as much!"

"No, not at all," Alfred insisted but Arthur wasn't hearing any of it. "I heard what the frog said yesterday. Or are you calling me a fibber?" The taller male was trying to say something over the other and it was driving the child crazy.

"Shut your gob, Eyebrows! He's trying to explain but you keep yapping!" Peter interjected. Arthur scowled at the boy.

"Alright then, let him explain himself if he isn't too stupid to do so." missing the flinch the other made at the 'stupid' comment, Arthur looked expectantly at sky blue eyes as the blonde struggled for words.

"Boss says he gonna set up shop 'round here, jus' not sure where... Selling wine he makes. We gonna be livin' wit' 'is Spainard frien' an' a coupla othas ina townhouse. He mighta say somethin' else but I can't 'member." he looked at Arthur as he finished his explanation, but the other just stared back at him blankly. It made Alfred uneasy. "What?" he asked when the silence became too loud to bear.

"I... I didn't understand a word of what you said..." Arthur replied, holding back a smirk at the clear disbelief on Alfred's face. "Never mind that now. Why was I on that sodding table though? I could've broken something falling off at that height." Peter, ever the smart chap he was, scoffed at the man disbelievingly.

"Al was moving heavy things all willy-nilly for me and would've dropped one on you, if he hadn't moved you onto the table so you should be thanking him, Eyebrows!" the little brat said something after that, fortunately the sound became muffled to Arthur as a peculiar emotion overcame him.

_He moved me to prevent me of injury? That is..._ A sudden impulse fled through the Brit's cheek muscles, itching for him to smile, but no, this was just a fluke of luck that the other would think before acting. Of course no one cares about him and that was just the way it was...

_...That is only expected of him, I think, at least I believe it is. But that was, perhaps, nice of him and-_

_Wait, what did that little rapscallion say?_

"-Honestly, you could plant heaps in those bushes..." Peter joked to a chuckling Alfred.

"Who you calling 'Eyebrows', Eyebrows? They're about as big as mine!" Arthur huffed.

"If that's what you want to believe.." Peter whispered loudly. The pair laughed more openly now, infuriating the emerald-eyed lad. _They aren't big, just pronounced_, he thought defensively.

"Nah, I'd say yours are bigger." Alfred chimed in.

"Exactly." Peter agreed, flipping an oh-so-familiar coin against his palm distractedly. So familiar...

Why was that?

And then the sun shone on the golden coin, throwing light on the four-leaf clover symbol and his initials decorating it. He blanched. That damn coin! He knew he was forgetting something! Self control gone with the wind, Arthur lunged for the accursed coin just to land in a puddle, empty handed.

"What the bloody hell is your problem, squirt?!" Arthur couldn't take much more of this, he felt like the world was playing with his sanity and one of these days he was going to snap.

"You must have some kind of attachment to this coin, Eyebrows," Peter said, observing the sore man on the ground. "Why do you want it so badly? Is it a token of some kind?"

There were two ways Arthur could approach this situation.

One and his personal favorite way, would be to cuss the little brat out and take off with the coin (which was his so it would be all fair and square).

Or the second and more complicated way, which meant that he would have to coax the coin off of the bugger AND reveal his secret. Hopefully, to a clueless child who didn't know how to interpret it correctly.

His mind was screaming for the first option, but his brain knew that would never fully work. He knew what he had to do, as much as it pained him to think it.

He would have to convince this kid to release the charm and deal with any of the consequences of this decision afterward. It was what his parents would want him to do to protect his magic.

Sighing in defeat, he ran a hand through his disheveled hair and silently cursed to himself. "Do you really want to know why?"

"Sure do," Peter and Alfred chirped in unison. Arthur shook his head. One wanker was enough, he didn't need another soul to know of his magic. "What are you shaking your head for, Eyebrows?"

"Just you, kid. It's bad enough that I'm even telling you. I can't be dragging both of you idiots around like this." Peter pouted.

"But why not?" Arthur sighed. This was going to be awful.

"Are you daft? Or uncaring? You heard me already, squirt." Peter narrowed his eyes in concentration, gaze lingering between the gold token in his hand and the irritable man in front of him. Dropping the token onto the ground, Peter raised his foot up and started to bring it down on top of the object until a 'STOP!' halted his action.

"What is it?" he drawled lazily. Arthur was paler than earlier, he noticed.

"W-what are you thinking of doing to that, s-squirt?" the moniker was added on at the last second as his nervousness was affecting his speech. _Please don't crush it, please, please... _

"Nothing. Just seeing what'll happen when I crush this-" his foot was raised to strike.

"NO!" Arthur bellowed, receiving the child's attention for the second time.

"You'll allow Al to accompany us, then?" the boy questioned, again too innocently. Arthur sighed heavily.

"Fine, fine, damn it! Just promise me one thing."

"...I'm listening."

* * *

The three had settled on coming back to the Grove's alleyways tomorrow for Arthur, who was to demonstrate what that coin was so vital for and whatever else fell into that category. Peter made sure that that category was broad with many a threatening. The alleyways were picked since Alfred and Peter each knew the directions to the isolated spot and thought if it was a secret that it should be best kept secret between just the three of them.

Alfred was absolutely excited to spend time with Arthur, the big reveal would just be the icing on the cake. Arthur felt appropriately cheated and grumpier than ever, stomping off (most definitely to have a glass). Peter, well, he felt like he was the greatest adventurer in all of the Emerald Isle. The discussion had ended once Peter heard footsteps coming into the area, the cheers of a drunken Francis and Antonio floating by. Dashing through the trees and back to his parents' home, Peter arrived without any of the things that they had asked for. And when his Mama asked him what he had done all day, he said:

"I've had an adventure." smiling brightly, he left the kitchen without supper.

* * *

_FYK (For Your Knowledge) Words:_

_Joie de vivre _roughly translates to "exhilarance" in English, also meaning "the exuberant enjoyment of life", it's a French phrase used to express cheerful enjoyment of life. Pretty self-explanatory in itself.

_Bonbon _is a candy, especially one covered in chocolate, that all look so freakin' good...

_Cher _means "dear" in French (and reminds me of cherries; OH NO, MORE FOOD!)

_Gob_ means "mouth" (Nothing fancy, just that)

_Willy-nilly_ means "whether one likes it or not" and/or "without direction or planning; haphazardly"

_Rapscallion_ means "mischievous person"

* * *

Ugh... I always mean for these chapters to be out earlier, and *insert rant here*. I'm more happy than annoyed at myself since I always have ideas for this story, I just have to write them down or I'll forget... ._. I don't know why, but I've been trying to write Alfred with a Cowboy drawl even though he's not in America, can any of you tell? Eh... What else?

Oh, if you can guess where they are by now, you win 1000 internets and some cookies.

And to** red**: I'm so sorry you're confused, but I'm glad that you find it interesting and fun to read!

This is a stupid question, but: Do you want me to give you an overview of what's happened so far? XD

Yeah, I'm not that good at writing a serious sounding romance (even with all of the stories I've read), but I'll do my best with it and see, it's kinda there right now. Aw, you're way too kind. Thank you so much, really, this review made my week last week. :3

Thank you all and peace, I'm out~


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Coin confusion, magical mumbo-jumbo and an oddly placed flashback. If I owned Hetalia, you would know, but I don't so... **

* * *

The following morning Arthur awoke on the wood floor, cranky and a little disoriented from last night's bender. Sitting up and finding himself not yelping in panic, he ran a hand over his face in reassurance, running the other along the splintered wooden planks just to make sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him. Though it made him feel silly to do this, he figured, at least he had woken up inside of the house this time. He stretched tiredly. Why couldn't he ever get a good night's rest?

Maybe it had something to do with why he was in that tree the other day. Maybe he was doing things in his sleep whilst drunk. Well, if that was true, he'd just have to quit drinking then.

Laughing hysterically, the Brit clutched his sides, rocking back and forth as he rode out the delirious chortling brought on by his joke. Stop drinking? Ha, as if! Just the idea was too hilarious for him to imagine.

Wiping away salty tears of mirth, he gathered his sanity along with a pile of dirty clothes, some lye and a washboard. It was officially laundry day for him since he didn't have anything clean to wear and he was down to his last pair of unmentionables. On his way to the door, a thought occured to him:

_Don't you have somewhere to be? Revolving around something more important than cleaning?_

Arthur paused by the door, thinking over those words briefly before reasoning:

_If it was important enough, I would've remembered._

With the pile of clothes in both arms, he kicked the door open, locking it with the same rusty key his grandmother had used. He headed to the river, view obstructed by the thin fabrics of cotton and other materials alike, eyes focused on the path while he allowed his mind to wander.

_I feel like I'm forgetting something... Something pretty damn important..._

* * *

And it was pretty damn important. Or rather, it was to the two boys who had shown up to an empty alleyway, bored out of their minds and questioning just how much Arthur really did care about the fate of his all-powerful coin if he wasn't even there. Walking to the rendezvous point had been uneventful for both boys. Peter managed to convince his parents that he could be trusted to go to the market and actually bring back what they asked for. Well, just his Mama. Papa never did speak much. But that was just his way. All Alfred had to do was walk out the backdoor to Antonio's shared townhouse and wait for them to come. His boss, Francis, was going to check out some plots of land to plant the grapes for his wine in out-of-town, so Alfred would be on his own until then. They both arrived and now they were only waiting for Arthur.

The wind chilled the air creating a pleasant temperature, it was not yet frigid and nowhere near hot. The routine wave of customers had dwindled considerably because of the upcoming festival the next month and it would take a while to finish preparations and reap the abundance of crops that each farmer was expecting to harvest from his yield. No one had any time to be standing around the coffee pot and slacking off on their duties when there was so much to do. The lack of noise gave the alleyways more of an abandoned feel to them. This, in conjuction with the funny feeling he had felt all morning, made Alfred mildy disturbed. He had felt something off since he'd woken up. His boss told him that it was just another symptom of 'the change' and that it would disappear if he ignored it. Alfred believed that his boss was right and did exactly that. But as he kicked a can absently, sending it soaring over the wooden fence that barred off the flora and fauna of the forest, he wasn't too sure if his boss was right anymore.

Peter sat on a stack of crates, biting his lip to keep in the scream of boredom that was busy bubbling up his throat. Noticing the face the younger boy was making, Alfred decided that enough was enough and coughed to get his attention.

"Huh?" Peter perked up instantly, as if he wasn't bored at all.

"Whatdya reckon we do now since Arthur ain't here?" Alfred asked, leaning against the log building.

"You know what I reckon," the other wasn't responding, so Peter elaborated. "I reckon we have us a jolly good time, with or without the grump. Whatdya say?"

Alfred didn't know what to say. On the one hand, he really wanted to wait if Arthur was coming. The Brit would have a blow-up if he came to the alley and saw that they weren't there like they said they would be. But on the other hand, he knew that wishful thinking never got nobody nothing and he was mind-numbingly bored, so what harm could it do to try? He didn't want to think it, but he doubted that the other would come by choice.

"I dunno, wha' if-?" Alfred began unsurely.

"'What if' what?" the younger boy cut him off, incredulity evident in his wide-eyed stare. "Do you want to be waiting for Eyebrows all day or do you want to have some fun? The sourpuss could be laughing at us through his looking glass and merely pretending to forget about our little agreement for all you know. And if that's not the case, then we'll find him later. Alright?" Peter stuck out his hand, waiting for the older boy's response.

_Well, when he put it that way..._

Alfred grasped the boy's much smaller hand in his own, giving it a firm shake as he beamed a sunny smile at him.

"Alrigh'," he replied. "But," he added as a gleeful smile met his own. "We have to come back, directly. Else big bug's gonna be worried, 'kay?"

"Yes, we'll be back before midday, I promise!" Peter nodded emphatically, keeping his grasp on the other's larger hand, pulling him out of the alley.

Alfred only laughed at the other's rushing, allowing himself to be pulled by the eager little boy. He supposed it was fine to fool around for a day, releasing the stresses of work and familiar thoughts and possible memories. Really, what was the worst that could happen?

And all three forgot of their previous engagement until a golden opportunity came falling out of the sky, bringing each blonde back together again. Whether they liked it or not.

* * *

Arthur did not like it. He did not like it one bit.

Not one minute after he had finished washing his formerly dirty rags, did the rain pour as if the Heavens wanted nothing more than to cleanse the sinful forest back to the biblical times of Noah's Ark. The downpour gave warm, fat droplets, despite the cold of the river's water. They fell at such a speed that they felt like liquid needles, stabbing into his skin without breaking through. Searching for cover, he bolted to a lone oak tree, hoping the rain would knock it off soon. He was in no mood for a rescue mission to save his clothes.

All of a sudden, like the Gods knew that total salvation would never happen, the rain turned into a light shower and then slowly squeezed out a few last drops before stopping altogether. The sun peaked high in the sky, no longer hidden behind storm clouds, it shined brilliantly above the oak tree. Taking a peek through the leaves, Arthur walked out from under the natural canopy, straining his eyes against the intense light of day. When his eyes finally adjusted, he frowned, albeit with intention unlike usual.

_What the-_

His thought was interrupted by a coin pelting him straight on the noggin, eliciting a hiss out of the thoroughly soaked man.

"Bloody hell!" he yelled, falling to his knees and crumpling to the ground. It might have been no bigger than his thumb, but that didn't meant it would be painless.

After several moments of holding his head between his knees, Arthur sat up to see the projectile and what he saw made him do a double-take.

There, on the lush grass by his feet, sat a gold coin and you would think that this is no issue, seeing as he already has one. That was the thing. He had one, well, two if you counted the other gold coin he would use to bribe his way out of difficult situations, nonetheless two and only two. He interpreted the clover's mocking symbol to mean luck, though what kind was up for debate, although mostly bad in his opinion. The other had no symbol or power to speak of. It was simply for show and did nothing besides turning to leaves after he parted with it. He knew that for certain because one of his brother's pranks backfired when they took one to see if anyone could tell the difference between it and real money. Liam was so pissed once he checked his pockets to find nothing but shriveled leaves, having to use his gift of the gab to smooth talk his way home. That had been one of the best days of Arthur's life.

Lost in the calming thoughts of his brother's torment that day, Arthur was too engrossed in his daydream to hear the clink of enchanted metal heading for him. Or to sense the weight that had just appeared on his hand.

"Hm.." he blinked one eye open, mouth going limp at what lay in his hands. Wait, he didn't pick it up. Right? So then... Oh lord, would somebody give him a sign?!

Practically on cue, a rainbow appeared in the sky, spanning both edges of wood and gleaming its multicolored arcs majestically. The beams of color were swaying against each other, almost like they were vibrating with untold energy. The coin in his hand was hit by a beam of sunshine, revealing its rainbow symbol above his initials to him.

_Well, that was more obvious than I would've liked,_ he thought sarcastically. They had to be kidding. He waited for more than eight years and only now did they want his help.

Sighing, he guessed this was what he earned when he refused to become a cobbler. If you were to ask him why he did not want to be, utterly abhored the possibility of being a cobbler, he would tell you until turning blue in the face that he didn't want to be standard. Not that he wanted to be eccentric either. He didn't even want to be revered, he just wanted to be himself. That seemed like the hardest task more than anything in his jinxed existence.

He supposed that it sort of, maybe, might have been his fault for showing up drunk and wrecking the elves' shoes with a failed restoration spell that set their orders back a couple of weeks. Perhaps, the drunken jig he led with the clurichauns was distasteful to the factory owner, as well. But he would be damned before admitting that it was him that had started the riot between the elves and the leprechauns. It was just a coincidence that the guy who started it looked like a mirror image of himself. Don't look at him like that. He wasn't lying, dammit!

It was nine years ago, on a hot August day when Arthur was fired from his cobbler duties before the full week was up. His brothers hadn't known what he was doing in that time frame and wouldn't care enough to ask, so that was one thing they couldn't make fun of him for.

The Treasury of the Natural World did care, however, and they were right furious with him for the destruction caused in the riot (that he didn't start). They had requested his presence posthaste or else he would face consequences. What those consequences were wasn't disclosed on the scroll, but he had seen a variety of torture devices in his day and he was not about to be put in one. So, with no small amount of huffing and sighing, he followed the directions on the scroll, until he found a large waterfall surrounded by wild vegetation, the pounding of the water made hearing virtually impossible. He couldn't go down there. He couldn't even swim.

A cold, phantom-like sensation invaded his senses as he fought against it, willing his body to rid the foreign feeling at once.

_"Don't fight against it, Arthur. I'm trying to help you."_ a steely voice stated in an unnaturally somber tone in his head. Somehow, the dull mumble was more comforting than unnerving to the Brit and he let his mind settle after a little while. The same phantom-like sensation overcoming him, causing his eyes to droop tiredly.

"I wouldn't sleep if I were you." the steely voice from his mind warned matter-of-factly.

Arthur blinked his eyes to see that he wasn't outside anymore. The scenery of the waterfall had been replaced with one of a spacious office interior, papers strewn across desk after cherrywood desk, shelves stacked high with time worn books with titles in several different languages. He must have been gaping pretty wide because he heard the steely voice speak softly from behind him.

"Confusing, isn't it?"

When he turned around, the emerald-eyed lad had to bite his tongue to keep in what his mind was screaming. This man was truly... feminine.

And indeed he was, his short light blonde hair was pulled back by a cross barette on the right side of his head, though it didn't seem to be doing much about the long fringe falling over his left eye. His eyes were of a deep iris blue color and looked at everything with boredom that was plain as day, not to say that he didn't feel like his very soul was being stared at. Because it did. His clothes were plain and dark in pigment, contrasting pointedly with his fair skin.

Arthur quit observing the other when he coughed to get his attention, blushing in embarassment at his own foolish behavior.

_He is a man, Arthur. A man. Get over yourself._

The cross-clip wearing man led him to a hall where a leather couch sat in front of a large gilded door. He asked Arthur to sit there while he talked with the other treasurers, leaving immediately after a steady beeping began somewhere closeby.

What was twenty minutes felt like hours to the worried Brit as his mind raced with questioning thoughts that he knew he didn't want answered.

Would he be banished from the magical realm for this? Were they discussing methods of torture to carry out on him? Would they tell his brothers what he did? Why couldn't he have found that imposter him earlier and wring his little neck in-

The door burst open with a resounding slam, scaring Arthur half to death as a man with unruly blond hair and cobalt blue eyes stepped into the hall, chuckling loudly before seeing him and grinning childishly at him.

"So, you're the one who screwed up big time? Shorter than I imagined... Boy, do I have some good news for you!"

Basically, he was given an ultimatum. Either he could help his charge learn how to use their powers or he was stripped of his own in compensation. Essentially, it was a lose-lose situation for him. If he disobeyed, then he'd be just another mortal leeching off of Mother Nature's ample bosom, drying her out of nonrenewable resources without giving anything back in return. But if he were to obey, he'd still have to deal with some loathsome wanker expecting him to know the answers to each and every one of their little problems. They'd probably try and talk to him about their day, as if they were lifelong pals. He shuddered in dread. Oh, the horror...

A strong gust of wind had Arthur backing away from the open sky. Trees rustled frantically beside him as he squinted through the blasts of wind, trying to locate the direction it was coming from. The coin felt heavy in his hand. Peering at it, he saw that it was glowing white and gravitating towards the rainbow. He grit his teeth in frustration. Fine. If whoever his charge happened to be was ready for him so badly, he'd teach them something, alright.

Letting go of a tree trunk, he was swept into the blinding light of the rainbow, body propelled forward with no apparent end to the force in sight.

He was ready for this all to be over. Ready for a change.

More ready than he would ever think.

* * *

_FYK (For Your Knowledge) Words:_

_Bender _refers to "someone/some object that bends something" or a "wild drinking spree". Guess which one I meant. :P

_Unmentionables _or should I say,_ inexpressibles_, are one's pants or trousers. Since I'm sure you wouldn't want to allude to your naughty bits back then.

_Standing around the coffee pot_ is a Western phrase and if you are a _coffee boiler_ then that means you are a "shirker, or a lazy person"

_Blow-up _is another Western phrase, it means "to have a fit of anger"

_Directly _means "soon". So straightforward.

_Big bug _is, you guessed it, another Western slang term, it means "important person, official, or a boss"

_The clurichaun_ is an Irish fairy that resembles the leprechaun, basically like a "night" form of leprechaun, as they are said to always be drunk. They create mayhem in houses during the hours of darkness, riding sheep, goats and even dogs throughout the country at night. They may borrow or steal anything.

_The leprechaun_ is an Irish fairy that is a self-appointed guardian of ancient treasures. These treasures were said to have been left by the Danes that marauded through Ireland, buried in crocks or pots. They can be drunk, but not drunk enough to ruin their craft of cobblery. Apparently, leprechauns and clurichauns can be switched between if they decide to get rowdy enough.

_The elf _is originally thought to be the spirits of the dead who brought fertility, mainly in Teutonic and Norse folklore. Later, they became supernatural beings, shaped as humans, who are either very beautiful or extremely ugly. They were worshipped in trees, mountains and waterfalls. The Celtic elves are the same size as humans. Hint hint.

_A cobbler_ is a person who mends shoes as a job. Not talking about the dessert.

* * *

AAAAAH! I broke my own rule... I still have so much to say, too. Where to start? Okay, well, she should see this coming, but thank my amazing beta, **Sora Resi**, for being awesome and helping me out with this monstrosity of text. She's so motivating and nice. I would've just pushed this out making no sense at all without her help.

And with all of that up there, I hope you're not confused *cough**red**cough* because this is nothing compared to the magical system I'm going to set up. Oh Jesus.. I could've gotten to them actually being in the same place, if not for that random flashback sneaking up on me.

Just be happy that it wasn't the first draft with the explanation of how he became a leprechaun. It was SO huge and packed with longer run-on sentences and this weird dream filled with pick-up stick rhymes and jacks and knucklebones trying to kill him. Oh, yeah, if you didn't know, Arthur's a leprechaun. Not the traditional kind though, I'm re-working how it goes in my head. ^^ This'll be a learning experience for us all that way~!

Again, I thank anyone who even just looks at this, you guys rock my socks! :D


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Brotherly bonding, even more not-really romance and obvious foreshadowing. I don't own a thing, bro! Hetalia is amazing on it's own~**

* * *

Vibrant beams painted the expanse of clouds as the hues bled into one another, illuminating the otherwise dimly lit sky with their polychromatic trails. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting shadows off the forms of two blonde boys spread out on the grass. The younger of the two sat against the trunk of a tree, ocean eyes unsure of whether to stay open or flutter closed. The older boy laid flat on his back, glasses pushed up to his golden hair as he stared up at the dusk, wondering what was wrong with him.

Alfred could tell it was, without a doubt, past midday and yet he didn't drop everything in a mad dash back to his post. Normally just the thought of disobeying the man who had raised him as his own was enough to make him cut whatever he was doing short and return to his boss. It might have been because of the serene atmosphere of the placid river or all of the playing they had done finally catching up to him, but all he knew was that he was content with just laying there, soaking up the final rays of sunshine on this much needed day of rest.

If all went well with his boss' plans today, they would soon dominate the alcohol market in this town and when they earned enough bank they could "return" to Francis' home. He thought of it like this since he had never been there and knew nothing of it. Other than the fact that it was some lovely little château in Paris. He only heard the man mention it when he was lost in the reverie of his childhood. Going on and on, always about silly things, like how everyone used to gush about what a darling boy he was.

"As polite as I may have been, I was not a darling one," Francis would wave off their flatteries as if they were the drones of lowly flies, swarming around his form with their hungry eyes, eager to delight themselves in the sweetness of his presence. Whenever he would ask what the other meant, he was told, "That's something more suited to you." The wavy haired man would tersely grab his hands, pressing feathery kisses against each knuckle of the smooth skin before letting go, adoring sapphires never turning from his befuddled sky blue.

The man's nature puzzled him greatly. Any ambiguous sayings or subtle gestures he made went right over the teen's head and he couldn't figure out what the man was thinking half the time. Asking him to explain clearly only made the explanation turn into a ridiculously long speech with these unpronounceable words that he had not ever heard before. He did not say it out loud for he observed paying proper respect to where it is due, but it got his back up when the man treated him like a child. Telling him what he thought he should know and not the whole story. He could handle whatever the other wasn't saying.

He was eighteen now. A full-grown man and then some in most peoples' standards. He believed he should be treated as such.

A loud yawn followed by the overt popping of bones brought Alfred out of his brief interval of annoyance. Beside him sat an exhausted Peter, attempting to stay awake by the unwavering force of his sheer willpower.

It wasn't working.

"Al?" Peter mumbled softly against the tree, voice almost going unheard to the other who was lost in stargazing.

"Yeah?" said boy replied, half-listening, half-daydreaming ways to assert his manhood to his boss.

"Do you think I'll ever find him?" the question made Alfred forget all about his trifles, effectively ending any development of his plans of being seen as a man for the time being.

"Huh?" was his clever response. Flopping onto his stomach to sit up, he turned his stare on to the young lad, brows furrowed in confusion. _What was he talking about? Find him? Maybe I heard wrong,_ he thought. Just to be sure he watched the other's expression for any signs of the teasing smirk the boy made when he was joking.

There were none to be found.

Peter, whose eyes remained closed tight, shook his head at his own foolishness. "And here I was, about to ask if I could call you my brother. What a stupid thing of me to do, right?" he asked, though it sounded more like a statement. Alfred frowned at the dejected words tumbling out of the child's mouth.

This was not the Peter he knew. Granted, he had only known him for so long, but the Peter he knew was keen of other's attention, always quick to throw back a witty remark and bolder than he could ever be. Moving closer to the boy whose face was up against the tree, he opened his mouth to reply but couldn't find the right words. How can one simply assuage another's worries when they don't know what's wrong in the first place? His boss could if he was here, he was the smooth talker of the two. Alfred was sure he saw the man toying with many women before. Many married women. And they let him do this without batting an eyelash!

_No, no. Forget about that right now. Say something to calm him down, stupid!_

"No, it's not-" he began before being cut off by the other's ramblings.

"I know nothing about him and yet, with the way Mama talks about him, I wish I could be like him.. Could be him. If only to make them happy, if only.." the boy trailed off suddenly, chest rising and falling slowly as he relaxed into a fitful slumber.

"Wha'?" Alfred asked smartly, unaware of the boy's lack of response.

_All he wanted was a brother? Well, I might not know what he meant with all that other stuff but the least I can do is be the best brother he could ever want. _

He didn't know much about his own parents or what big brothers were supposed to do, but he thought that family was the most important thing one could ever be blessed with in this life. They were there to teach you valuable lessons throughout your early years, supply you with food, love and care and raise you to become a healthy, functioning individual in society. Most importantly, families ought to be there to forgive each other for their sins and accept one another no matter what. The thought was so deeply ingrained into his skull that he would sometimes pray for Lovino's missing brother, who had left town after being accused of witchcraft and tampering with evidence. The trial was not a pleasant memory, that's for certain. He could still hear the scream of fustration from Lovino as he was dragged out of the courtroom by guards and remembering the calm resignation on Toni's face before he broke down after a mile of walking in silence. The memory still made him feel sick. They all cried that night back at their respective residences, even Francis. It was muffled by a pillow to lower the volume, but it woke the boy up and he knew what it meant. They slept in the same bed anyway, so there was no way he couldn't have known what the other was doing.

Carefully picking the smaller boy up, Alfred held Peter's limp body against his chest, thinking of how to explain his presence to his boss when he returned to the townhouse. It's not like the man wasn't understanding, it's just that he didn't want to impose on Antonio any more than he already has. Sighing, the teen slid against the tree trunk the other had laid on not too long ago, mindful of the boy in his arms as he watched him snooze away. The peaceful look on his face brought a tender smile out of Alfred, who began gently playing with the smaller one's hair with his free hand to calm his nerves.

_Brothers... Yeah, I think I'll do that just fine,_ he thought absentmindedly, fingers stilling in sandy blonde hair as he was being lulled to sleep by the relaxing rhythm of his newfound brother's breathing.

Without warning, a grunt sounded from a pair of berry bushes near the river along with the hollow thud of a receptacle of some kind. What kind that was, Alfred didn't know. He wasn't given the time to think about it either when he noticed a figure shaking themself of leaves and heading straight for him. Believe you me, most things did not frighten the living daylights out of the golden haired teen, especially something as silly as a few ominous shadows. But he heard rumors about this forest and its many ungodly inhabitants. Supposedly, there were a pack of demons that came out of the forest after dark, looking for bad children who misbehaved by staying out late despite their parents' warnings. He was a good boy though, so he didn't have to worry. He didn't disobey his boss-

..until today...

"What are you doing out here? And so late.. Are you trying to get the both of you killed?" a voice suddenly whispered hotly against his ear. Alfred's eyes widened in terror, releasing a sharp intake of breath that almost choked him, he exclaimed:

"Stay back, demon! We ain't dun nothin' wrong, you best leave us be!" while saying this he held onto the sleeping boy protectively, not willing to let the other go so easily.

"Wait, I'm not," the voice protested. Not like it mattered. The next thing they knew there was a white-hot aura enveloping the frightened teen's body, getting more intense with every passing second. The concentration of the light working together with the heat was both hard to stand for extended periods of time and absolute torture for anyone stupid enough to keep their eyes open. "Dammit, knock it off! What, did you get tired of fondling me and decide to just try and blind me so I couldn't identify you later?"

_That angry voice. No, it couldn't be..._

"You ain't Arthur, are you?" Alfred asked sheepishly, looking up to find the grumpy Brit kneeling on the ground beside him, his white-hot aura disappearing as fast as it came. Arthur was rubbing his eyes, hoping his sight would come back, even momentarily. Just long enough for him to properly strangle the wanker in front of him then he'd be fine.

"No, it's the Dullahan here to cut off your eyelids. Of course it's bloody Arthur, wanker! Care to explain this," he gestured to the pair sitting against the tree, "to me? Without any of the blinding this time?" he fumed, keeping his eyes covered as a precaution. Scratching his head, Alfred thought over everything that happened before responding.

"Wha' ya mean 'blinding'? It's pitch dark out." Arthur snorted.

"You blind me without knowing? God, you really must be stupider than I thought." when the other made no sound, Arthur uncovered his eyes, wondering what the wanker's problem was now. The face that greeted him was not what he was expecting. The taller blonde's usual beam was replaced with a sullen frown, his glasses sitting atop his head made the frown look all the more gloomy. He was staring purposefully at the ground, nervously running his fingers through Peter's hair again.

An unknown emotion shot through the grump's chest merely peering at the other's sad face. Unlike the last feeling he had before, this one was nowhere near pleasant. What was this gripping feeling in his chest? It was too nasty to be enjoyment that he felt, so maybe it was something else. Annoyance didn't strike him that hard nor did it make him feel this shitty. It definitely wasn't fear either. Then it had to be...

_Guilt._

Guilt? Oh, please. When pigs flew he would feel guilty about his words, but until the very day came he'd feel nothing for that idiot. Not a thing. He'd feel nothing for the delicate caressing of his face, with those big, warm hands. Nothing at all for that delicious body of his. Or for his hair, as golden as his coins. Or for the goofy smile he got whenever Arthur was near. Not the least bit for how his dreamy blue eyes would light up under the sun, revealing an even more beautiful tint to them, one that he wished he could drown in.

Not a damn thing. You got that?

"Yeah, I guess yer righ'," Alfred muttered, halting Arthur's contradictory thought process. "Knew I was stupid e'er since I was small. Boss says it's my mind tryin' to block out the bad mem'ries, but I think he's jus' sayin' tha' to be nice." he wouldn't look up and it was infuriating the emerald-eyed lad to no end, though he wasn't entirely sure why.

"Look at me." when the other still didn't listen, Arthur took his chin in his hand, forcing the boy to look him in the eyes. "Hey. Please, look at me. I didn't mean that, okay? I was only kidding." he spoke kindly, surprising Alfred as well as himself. Since when did he speak kindly?

"Really?" the hope in those eyes could have been easily crushed into utter nothingness, so easy to be taken away from him in his vulnerable state. And yet...

"Yes, really." he couldn't bring himself to crush that hope. Maybe it was guilt he felt earlier and maybe it was because he admired his innocence and couldn't bear to be the one who took it away. Whoever received that awful job would probably enjoy it, but he couldn't enjoy it. Not like this.

"Arthur?" Alfred asked, more confidently this time.

"Yeah?" Arthur sighed, leaning back on the tree.

"Thank you. Really, it means a lot to me.." Alfred said, catching another bright idea.

"Hm, well, frowning doesn't suit you. That's more of my thing, so leave it to me," Arthur smirked until a pair of arms snaked themselves around his waist, pulling him into a warm chest as a head rested on his own. "What the bloody-"

"Okay. Den you can't leave this spot 'til mornin'. Deal?" that incessant beam was back on his face, giving the Brit another strange feeling in his chest.

_Maybe it was something I ate._

"Fine. It's a deal. Git." he feigned annoyance, exhaustion clouding his better judgement. He snuggled into the built chest of the taller male's, falling asleep in the blink of his tired eyes.

The three slept outside that night, unfinished business to be dealt with when they awoke, oblivious of the audience they had performed for that night. And one member of this audience was all too happy to let the priests know what occurred. This was the perfect evidence to go on since more than one person saw. The child would also be persecuted, unfortunately, but this was God's work we are talking about. He did what was good for all. And what was good for all right now is another witch hunt. There would be no escape like Feliciano's this time around.

He'd make sure of that.

* * *

_FYK (For Your Knowledge) Words:_

_Get my/your back up _means to "get angry". Western phrase, you should see these coming.

_The Dullahan_ is a notorious Irish monster, its name can be translated to "dark man" in English. It is apparently the Irish embodiment of _The Headless Horseman_. The _Dullahan_ is said to ride a headless black horse with flaming eyes, carrying his own head under one arm. When he stops riding, a human dies. Its weakness happens to be gold, which I find ironic for this story.

* * *

Well, I felt like since I already gave a spoiler at the end of the last chapter that I should just keep my mouth shut and wait 'til I get to him explaining how it occurred. Er, if you somehow saw the poll I deleted last night, then you know what side pairings I have in mind, otherwise... Too dramatic? I feel like it's a bit too much, but I wanted to show Peter's motivation and then it got all sad and I had to fix that and meh. Anyway, I think I'm going to have to revoke my earlier rule because sometimes just stopping a chapter when I know exactly what comes after it, it's not good for my inspiration. So suck my vowels (even though I'm not Norwegian -.-)

Yeah.. Thank you all ('cause this never gets old) so much~! Excuse me while I go crying over America's Storage Room Cleaning now. :/


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